


The Adventures of Iron Mare

by Attalander



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animal Transformation, But Not As Crack As It Sounds, Comedy, Crack, Epic Cockblocking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Genderbending, Loki is a troll, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Romance, Shapeshifting, Steve is a sweetie, Tony is a horse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pissing off someone as magical as Loki is bound to have consequences. For Tony, the consequences this time include being turned into a horse. While enduring the trials of changing himself back, he has to manage his budding - and now extremely awkward - relationship with Steve, as well as the amusement of the rest of the Avengers. No, Clint can not ride him into battle. </p><p>Steve/Tony, but NO BESTIALITY. Just fluff. And crack. And feels.</p><p>And eventual smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Steve Is A Wonderful Mattress and Tony is Feeling a Little Horse

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about the Thor comics, so I'm going to be basing this off a mixture of the movies and what I know about Norse mythology.
> 
> I also haven't seen Thor: The Dark World or Iron Man 3, and even if I do this was plotted out before those movies were made... So, yeah, not compatible with anything post-Avengers 2012.
> 
> Thanks to my exhaustive and patient betas, Captain_Rachel, Draconicfeline, CC the horse breeder, and prettyredheads. You ladies are the best for putting up with my spam!

Tony woke up lying on something warm, soft and wiggly. Even moving so much, it was a comfortable pillow. Wait, not _it_... she? No, Tony sniffed the body under his, it smelled of sweat, spicy body wash, musk… Steve.

 _Yes! Finally!_ Tony smirked to himself, trying to nuzzle deeper into Steve's body. Waking up on top of Steve could only mean a final, pleasant end to their months'-long "courtship", the frustrating but oddly rewarding puzzle of helping Steve come to terms with the 21st century, his sexuality, and his relationship with Tony.

"Tony! TONY!"

God, hadn't the man ever heard of afterglow? Or mornings, and how much Tony hated them? His head was starting to pound with the beginnings of his pre-coffee morning headache, and there was more noise coming from somewhere, making it worse.

"Good Captain, are you all right?" Came the booming voice of Thor and Tony winced, trying to cover his ears, but he couldn't, there was something wrong with his hands… and who had let the big, loud lug into his room in the first place? Or was it Steve's? There was an ungodly amount of light, wherever this was. Too much light for a morning, too much for Tony to open his eyes yet.

"I'm fine, Thor!" Steve called back from under Tony, too close to Tony's sensitive ears, and sounding... strained somehow. "He's heavy but- No, don't move him! I don't know if he's hurt or unconscious."

Tony tried to rouse his sleepy brain enough to speak, enough to say "I'm fine," but his lips wouldn't form the words, and all that cam out was a hoarse _whuffle_.

Tony tried again, trying to make the sounds come out, but his tongue wasn't working, wouldn't let him get anything else out but a sort of high-pitched squeal. Suddenly Tony wasn't sleepy anymore, and his eyes snapped open despite the glaring light and there was something wrong, he couldn't see in front of him, it was like there was a blank spot right in the middle of his field of vision.

 _What the hell, what the hell!_ Tony tried to yell, tried to get his mouth to work but it wouldn't, and he couldn't sit up, couldn't get to his feet and there were voices and loud noises-

"Tony, Tony, woah!" Steve was under him, trying to dodge Tony's thrashing, too-long legs, "Tony, calm down!"

But Tony was scrambling to his feet, desperately looking around him, trying to make sense of what was happening, why his body felt so strange and why he couldn't speak and couldn't seem to stand quite right. It took him precious moments to take in what his oddly-placed eyes were showing him, and every glance made Tony more and more confused and panicked. 

Crater, he and Steve were in a crater, surrounded by rubble, the rubble of shattered New York brownstones and crushed sidewalk. Steve was sprawled out on the ground, his Captain America uniform burned and scratched and strangely discolored, covered in pieces of gold scrap metal, and there was a look of fear and confusion on his face that made Tony's heart beat even more wildly as he tried to stand right, slipping on the uneven chunks of shattered pavement. Figures, too small and too quick, moved around him, trying to touch him, trying to grab him.

Tony tried to yell and finally recognized the sound that came out, the long ululating cry that couldn't be described as anything but a _whinny_. Throwing his head back, Tony reared, lashing out with his hooves as he cried at the top his huge, powerful lungs…

_Why the FUCK am I a HORSE!?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Forgot horses were red-green color blind. For anyone wondering, Tony's visual palette is [ like this, now. ](http://www.bigshotcamera.com/images/fun/projects/optics/colorwheel/colorblind-apples.jpg)
> 
> Kinda sucks if you have a love-affair with hot-rod red...


	2. In Which Loki Has Terrible Timing, and Yoga Mats are Thoroughly Misused

Tony lashed out with his hooves, tossing his head, screaming his horror and defiance and sheer WTF to the skies. The strangely small forms of the other Avengers darted around him, too fast, too sudden in their movements, and he couldn't balance on his four feet, his hooves, not on the cracked, uneven pavement strewn with bits of twisted metal. 

Part of Tony's mind, the logical part, recognized the fragments of gold-titanium alloy as pieces of the Iron Man armor, blasted outward from the crater by some titanic force. However, those thoughts were pushed to the side by the overwhelming _panic_ and _confusion_ and desperate desire to get changed back _right the fuck now_.

"Now, calm down Star- _yeep!_ " Hawkeye jumped back as Tony swung around, head nearly knocking into the archer as it swung like a big, heavy pendulum. The human part of Tony's brain was screaming, _These are my friends! Or as close as I get to friends_ , but the new, horsey part of his brain was too overwhelmed by all the stress, and the adrenaline, and the quick darting movements around him to listen. 

Unfortunately, instinct seemed to be in the driver seat of the good ship Tony Stark, and his brain was even more scrambled than that metaphor. His brain was screaming at him to _run_ , but Tony couldn't run, not with the uneven ground and his shaky legs and the small, darting figures that seemed to be everywhere… And if he couldn't run, then Tony had to _fight_ , to lash out at the circling, yelling, familiar–not–familiar shapes.

A large, blonde shape in a dirty yellow cape (and hell if all the strange, distorted colors weren't throwing Tony for loop) charged up from the right.

“He just needs a firm hand on the reins to- _Ooph!_ " Tony whirled and smashed both rear hooves into the demigod, one on his chest and one under his chin, sending Thor flying back into a mostly–intact wall.

“STOP!” Came a loud, commanding voice, and Tony and the others all froze.

 _Herd-leader_ , said part of his brain, while rest of it said _Steve!_

Shivering and sweating, Tony turned his head to see the super soldier climbing unsteadily out of the crater, head high and commanding, even as he limped, and damn it, if Tony was going to make Steve limp, he wanted to do with the happy fun way, not by squashing him under 1000 pounds of horse butt! 

"Everyone, get back,” Steve's voice was all Captain America, firm and authoritative and sexy as all hell. "Tony, get yourself under control now! If that had been anyone but Thor, you'd have killed them."

Tony winced and looked over at the demigod, who was brushing brownstone rubble off his cape with a wry grin. "Strong legs!" Thor boomed, "You have become a most mighty steed, friend Tony."

 _Hear that? She called me a 'mighty steed'_ , Tony tried to snark, but of course it came out as a sort of sarcastic whicker, _She thinks I'm a steed!_

"I am not a 'she', so I assume that is a quote," Thor replied.

 _Yeah, Shrek– Wait,_ Tony's eyes widened as Steve's eyebrows shot up, _You can understand me?_

"You can understand him?" Steve asked at the same time, and Thor nodded at both of them.

_Thank god for Allspeak._

"You're welcome." Thor said, grinning. 

The rest of the Avengers were moving back in, relaxing now Tony had calmed down. Clint stretched his arms over his head and grinned like a loon.

"Hey Tony. Horse got your tongue?"

Tony, ever mature, stuck his tongue out at Clint, while Natasha came up behind the archer and swatted him playfully upside the head. 

_OK, horseplay aside,_ Tony said as Thor translated, _Why the flying fuck am I a horse?_

"You don't remember?" Steve looked at Tony strangely, his brows knit together, and Tony shook his head.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Natasha prodded, "Take us through it step by step."

"I don't think that's necessary," Steve interjected quickly, and was that a blush? "Just go through it in you head, Tony."

OK, that blush was suspicious, wonderfully suspicious. Tony thought back, closing his eyes and straining his brain, because whatever he'd done to make Steve flush that brightly, he _definitely_ wanted to remember it.

Lunch, yeah, he remembered lunch. A picnic he'd brought into Steve's private training room, all of the soldier's favorite treats Tony had uncovered during his Steve-wooing campaign. He was vague on the food but he remembered the laughter, the smell of sweaty Steve, the kisses, growing from slow to passionate and no wonder Steve didn't want to share this with the class.

The memories unfurled in Tony's mind, the caress of Steve's lips and his hands and the way the larger man didn't pull away for once, even when things heated up, even when Tony had slipped his hands under the waistband of Steve's ridiculously retro khaki workout pants. Instead, Steve had pulled him closer, kissing Tony breathless, only stopping to help Tony get their shirts over their heads. Steve had murmured something about the bedroom, but they'd wound up fumbling their way over to one of the workout mats, discarding shoes and socks and pants and underwear and Tony _finally_ got a proper eyeful of gasping, naked Steve, and then…

Nothing. No matter how he strained, Tony couldn't remember what came next, what had to come next; finally taking a bite out of the cherry Capsicle. Had they done it and he couldn't remember? Was all of this some twisted reverse-princess-and-the-frog setup? Weird serum side-effect?

 _I remember how nice you look on a yoga mat_ , Tony finally leered, watching the soldier's face as Thor translated. Who would have known, even with the reds gone from his visual color palette, Tony could still see how furiously Steve was blushing.

"Waaaaaaaaait a second," Clint gave Steve and Tony a look of pure, knowing lechery, "Oh, I so called it! Phil owes me $50, he swore you'd make it to the bedroom the first time–"

"We… I…" God, blushy Steve was adorable.

"Congratulations, good Captain!" Thor patted Steve's back hard enough to raise a cloud of pavement dust, "Tonight we shall feast and toast your manhood!"

"There's nothing to toast," Steve groaned with a sort of embarrassed weariness, staring resolutely over everyone's heads, "Because your brother has the worst timing in the history of the universe."

Everyone winced, Thor muttered "Adopted", and Tony got a sinking feeling in his chest. 

"So, when Loki blasted his way into Steve's floor…" Natasha's face was an odd mixture of sympathy and sadistic glee, "That explains why he laughed so hard he fell out of the sky."

Tony could vaguely remember that, the laughter that seemed more hysterical than maniacal, accompanied by his own voice shouting at JARVIS for the armor, as Steve scrambled for his suit and shield.

"Anyway" Steve said, clearly wanting to get this topic of conversation over with, "Loki showed up, we fought, he made grand speeches, you insulted him, he turned you into a horse. We'll have a full debriefing later."

 _Why not now?_ Tony asked, thoroughly curious and decidedly pissed off. He wanted to know what he'd said to Loki, whether it had been enough to express how much of a cockblocking bastard the demigod was… and the details of why he was a horse, too. That was a biggie. Thor translated, and Steve shook his head.

"Now, we need to get you out of here before the news crews arrive, and before Fury blows a gasket, and before the Hulk comes back from chasing Loki to 'play with pretty pony'."

 _Fine,_ Tony snorted. He leaned forward, setting his hooves for takeoff… oh, right, hooves. 

_Guys, um, how am I getting back?_


	3. In Which Steve Needs an Asprin and Fury Needs Brain Bleach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so sorry I haven't posted in months! School and life happened, you all know the drill. Anyway, this hasn't been beta'ed but I decided to just say "screw it" and get it up here anyway. Hopefully more regular updates from here on out.

It had been the best day of Steve's life, until about an hour ago. 

Come to think of it, there were quite a few days Steve could describe as "the best day of my life, until something horrible happened". There was the first day he and Bucky stood side by side, which was great until they both wound up in the hospital with broken bones. There was the day he became a super soldier, able to fight for his nation, feeling strong and healthy for the first time in his life, until Dr. Erskine was murdered right in front of him. Then there was the day Peggy kissed him and he nosedived a plane into the arctic. Tony had called him the "unlucky fucking rabbit's foot of fate", after the alien squid invasion that interrupted their first kiss. Still, their second kiss had been fantastic, squid guts and all. And the third. And the fourth. And the two months of kisses and dinners and falling asleep in front of the TV after that.

He should have known they were about due.

"Well, Captain, you have one fractured rib, three cracked ribs, and assorted contusions," the SHIELD doctor said as he set a nurse to wrapping cold compresses around Steve's mottled black-and-blue torso, "which, for you, means three days of-"

Steve tuned him out, he'd heard the speech before a dozen times and he was far more worried about what was happening with Tony than himself. He gazed anxiously at where Tony was visible, a few yards that felt like miles across the big SHIELD loading bay that had been turned into an impromptu medical facility. Tony's horse body apparently came with some pretty powerful instincts, among them a deadly fear of tight spaces. It had taken Steve, Thor, Natasha and copious bribes to coax the newly-claustrophobic Tony into a horse-trailer (and Steve still had no idea where they got that horse-trailer on such short notice) and nobody had wanted to repeat the ordeal with an elevator to get Tony to medical the official medical facilities. Instead, they'd come to him, with gurneys and equipment and doctors to check over all of them and junior agents to gawk at the sight of a horse with an arc reactor in its chest.

To be fair, Tony was a striking sight. Even with Steve's nonexistent knowledge of horses, outside the draft animals that pulled some of the German artillery when fuel was scarce, he could see that Tony was a magnificent animal. He was lighter than the draft horses, with long, lean muscles and a proudly arched neck. His hide was a warm, rich brown, lighter on his flanks and muzzle but darkening to almost black on his legs and back. His mane and tail were pure black and somewhat tousled, with locks of mane falling across the white spot on his forehead and into Tony's liquid brown eyes; Eyes that hadn't really changed that much, not like the rest of him had, still the rich, warm color of dark chocolate. But they were bigger, and the iris took up so much room Steve couldn't see the whites. The arc reactor was still there, higher up in the front of Tony's chest, and it looked oddly small embedded between big horse muscles. The raised, hairless network of scars looked all the darker and more brutal in the blue glow of the arc reactor. 

Tony stood there, shifting awkwardly from hoof to hoof as the doctors scanned and poked, murmured to each other and asked questions that Thor happily translated in his usual booming voice. Steve listened in, catching something about temperature and blood pressure, before he realized the doctor in front of him was gazing at him with a concerned look.

"Did you get all that, Captain?" 

"Yes I–" Steve began, but was cut off by Thor's bellow.

"Friend Stark says, 'If you come one step closer with that rectal thermometer, I'll smash your testicles into their component atoms, and invent cold fusion in your ass!'" Thor translated, sounding quite happy at the prospect, "Again!"

"–I gotta go." Steve apologized as he hopped down from the gurney and pushed past the doctor, rushing to where Tony and Thor were menacing a small, weedy looking man in a rumpled lab coat. The doctor's glasses were askew and he looked like he's been grabbed from somewhere very suddenly, with his scrub pants, pajama shirt and slippers. 

"I can't– we need– your vital signs–," the poor man was stammering as he backed away from the murderous looking horse and enthusiastic Norse alien, looking between them in turn, "that's the only way you can really do it with a horse, I mean–"

"What's going on, here?" Steve asked, even though it seemed obvious enough, drawing himself up to his full height in spite of the ache in his ribs and trying to look competent and leader-ly… even though the only thing he really wanted right now was to curl up on a couch with his human boyfriend and an ice pack.

The vet threw up his hands, waving them and the soapy rectal thermometer at Tony and Thor. "I'm just trying to do my job!"

Tony snorted, and Thor boomed, "'He tried to put that in my ass!'"

A few junior agents may have giggled. Steve sighed.

"Doesn't SHIELD have more advanced equipment for this than…" Steve waved at the medical instrument.

"For _humans,_ " the vet sounded like he was losing his patience. Or his sanity. "I don't really know what's going on, but I do know how to take a horse's temperature and tell if it's healthy or not, and that's what they told me to do, so if I can just–"

Tony whinnied loudly and Thor roared "THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO STICK THINGS UP MY ASS IS _STEVE!"_

Of _course_ that was the moment Fury chose to stride in, Coulson in his shadow and thunder on his face. It was just one of those days. 

Thor flushed and pointed quickly at Tony. “It was the horse," Tony snorted loudly and glared at him, "And apparently I was not supposed to translate that."

"I do not want to _know._ " Fury's voice sounded like he'd gone from furious to resigned to amused to just plain pissed off at the universe. "I do not want, or need, to kill another brain cell by revisiting that sentence. Ever."

Steve could hear Clint snicker from somewhere overhead as Fury took the moment to rest his head in his palm, then he looked up at Tony.

"Arc reactor, big mouth… you're Stark all right," Fury shook his head at the insanity of life, then turned to the doctors. "Report."

The vet put down the rectal thermometer and tried to look professional. "Right, Director– sir. While we were unable to get a temperature reading and I am unfamiliar with the device implanted in her chest… from what I can determine otherwise, she seems to be in perfectly good shape for a mare of her age."

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is not just me being pithy, Tony is a female horse. All will be explained eventually.
> 
> Also, for those of you wondering, Steve may not know how to properly describe s horse, but I do. In horsey terms, Tony is a dark bay mare with a white star and black points, no socks. In other words (or pictures) Tony looks a little something like this:
> 
> Save that Tony's mane is longer, and his ankles aren't white... And the picture is actually of a male horse, but I couldn't find a quality pic of a mare with the right coloring.
> 
> Anyone who can guess his breed before I post the next chapter gets a cookie!


	4. In Which Tony Needs a Chill Pill, or At Least a Pair of Pants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow... my original plan was for the next chapter to be up after a week or two. Apparently, my brain interprets "two weeks" as "ten months" and I am so sorry for that.
> 
> Anyway, I was having trouble figuring out how to get this exposition across in a fun and interesting and not-textbook-boring manner... until Marvel brought me Agents of SHEILD and this pair of lovelies! Now, this story is obviously not AoS compliant, as Coulson is the Avengers' handler and all, but the characters from AoS probably still exist and are on SHEILD's payroll in my 'verse, so BAM! Writeable scenarios!

The silence broke like a dam shattering under pressure, and everything started to happen at once.

All of the junior agents burst out talking at the same time, drowning out what else the vet had to say. Fury threw back his head and laughed. Clint laughed too, so hard he fell out of the rafters and onto the roof of an armored car. The doctors started to chatter too, and moved to try to get a look under Tony's tail. Natasha moved to head them off, snarling. All this happened in a moment, but Tony didn't notice any of it. 

He was too busy screaming a horse's war cry and throwing his powerful body at the man who'd so casually broken the final straw. Two pairs of muscular arms—Steve's and Thor's—gripped his neck and chest, holding him back as he reared and tried to throw them off. The vet screamed as he threw himself backwards, tripping over a tangle of cables and sending a large, expensive piece of medical equipment crashing to the ground.

Bruce Banner opened the door, took one look at the chaos and snapped it shut.

It would be a while before anything sensible could happen again.

\-----

They were still in the loading bay, but most of it was empty now. The techs and medics and junior agents had scattered to wherever they went when they weren't staring at Avengerly antics, and the rest of Tony's team were spread about the room, doing whatever they needed to do to nurse the bruises to their bodies or their prides.

Tony was in a corner near the door, pacing angrily back and forth. After Thor refused to translate for him anymore, Tony had gone off to sulk, rebuffing Steve's attempts at comfort until he was finally somewhat alone with his murderous thoughts.

_I want to KILL that bastard!_ Tony rumbled in horse, ears pressed back against his skull, hooves stomping the ground like it was the stupid little veterinarian's face. Or Loki's dick. Both would be fun to _crush_ right now.

But he couldn't crush them. He couldn't break the little vet apart with his sparkling and cutting wit because he couldn't _talk_. He couldn't climb into the suit and fly after Loki because the suit was _busted._ And he couldn't even start _fixing_ the suit, because he had no _hands_.

Loki had taken his voice, had taken his hands, had taken his species and left him with _nothing_ but his mind. He was trapped, helpless, _useless_ in a large, clumsy body not made for human buildings… and to top it all off, that ratty little vet had treated him like he wasn't even _human_. Not a _person_.

And then he'd taken the last part of Tony's identity, the part he'd never thought would go away. 

Tony… he wasn't even a _he_ anymore.

He was a _girl_.

Not that Tony had anything _against_ women, far from it. His mother had been gentle and lovely in a distant sort of way, he adored Pepper in a thousand ways that had nothing to do with sex anymore, and he had nothing but respect for Natasha, Hill, and the dozens of other competent ladies he worked with on a regular basis. If you made it into SHIELD or SI, you were usually the cream of the crop, and Tony knew badassery was not restricted by chromosome count. Hell, of all the people who knew how to truly terrify him, the only ones that _weren't_ women were Fury and Coulson.

(Not that Coulson really counted. He was the fucking Terminator, and gender labels didn't really apply.)

But this… this was _him_. Tony Stark.

Even when everything else about Tony had changed, when he'd gone from the Merchant of Death to a philanthropist, from a lone wolf to an Avenger, from a lost kid to a CEO to a war prisoner to a superhero, he'd always been… him. And now he wasn't, not completely.

"Stark," Coulson's voice intruded on Tony's thoughts and he brought his head up, ready to snap...

The sharp words came out as a snort, and Tony was stuck glaring at Coulson's bland smile.

"Stark, the new examiners are here. Stark, Fitz-Simmons. Fitz-Simmons, Tony Stark." Coulson waved forward a pair of bright-eyed twenty-somethings and… no, this was _not_ happening. Tony was not going to be poked and prodded and treated like an animal, he'd had enough of _that_ for one day, thank you. 

"Mister Stark, it is an _honour_ to meet you!" Male-twenty-something dashed forward… or tried to. The giant metal briefcases he was juggling turned it into an awkward scramble. He tumbled to a stop in front of Tony, all brown curls and bright eyes and a Scots accent thick enough to spread on toast, and… was that a sweater vest?

Nerd-Boy Jr. struggled with his briefcases, still babbling. "I can't believe it! That's the miniature arc reactor! Pure genius, sir! Absolutely… and your work on the palladium isotope equation? And the – Oh, but I'm forgetting myself." He finally got a hand free and held it out to Tony. "Fitz. Agent. Agent Leo Fitz, SHEILD Engineer."

Tony glanced down at Nerd-Boy's hand, and raised an eloquent eyebrow. _What do you expect me to do with that?_

Nerd-Boy Fitz blushed, mumbled an awkward apology, then moved aside to let his companion step up. She was mid-twenties as well, and attractive in a mousy sort of way. Her brown ponytail bobbed as she bounced forwards, bright red tennis shoes slapping and lab coat flapping open as she rushed forwards.

"Hi! Jemma Simmons." She was bright and energetic and British and these two were like some kind of matched set from the UK branch of Perky-Little-Nerds-R-Us. "Doctor Jemma Simmons. PhDs, two, not medical or veterinary, but the SHIELD veterinarians aren't really up to this, big surprise, so… Yeah, me, SHEILD Bio-Chemist, _huge_ fan of your intellecrops and may I say you look magnificent?"

Something, some hard knot of nasty anticipation, loosened a little under Tony's breastbone. Babbling fanboys were annoying, but it was a gratifying kind of annoyance, and infinitely better than the nasty little vet with his piggy eyes and his refusal to treat Tony as a person. Energetic nerds talking over each other as they set up their equipment, firing questions and specifications and data points over his head, just like Tony and Bruce when they fell into the Science Zone.

Yeah, they still poked and prodded and that was annoying as hell, but it wasn't an "I will poke and prod you because you are not a person who deserves not to be poked." It was the indiscriminate poking of a scientific mind confronted with the fascinating, and personhood was immaterial in the pursuit of science. And they talked _to_ him about 30% of the time, which was nice. Annoying, but still kinda nice.

"Well, yes, you're definitely a mare. Arabian, I'd say… raise your head a little? Definitely Arabian, look at that neck! They're great racehorses, strong and fast and built for endurance running–"

"The D.W.A.R.F Drones up and scanning. Looks like… ooh, yes, that reactor's a beauty. The shielding's fantastic, how'd you get the excess radiation so low? Oh, sorry–"

"Fitz, can you scan the hormone output? This is…"

"Sure," Fitz fumbled with the control pad, "I'll get Doc in there. Sleepy, move. There isn't anything for you to do, he's not a bio-contaminant––"

Wait, did he seriously name his drones after the Seven Dwarfs? Tony wanted to take this kid home, bribe him with candy and stick him in an R&D lab full of shiny sparkly gadgets. Nobody with that kind of mind belonged on SHIELD's payroll, it was a crime against science and the kid was too frickin' adorable to leave at Coulson's mercy. It would be an act of kindness, not theft. Totally.

Tony glanced over towards Steve, and found that the super-soldier had gotten to his feet and crossed the large room in long strides. He gave Tony an "is this OK with you" sort of look, and Tony nodded. It wasn't bad, not as bad as it had been… and as much as he hated doctors of all kinds and pokiness levels, he hated being a horse even more and maybe these two kids could get him unhorsed.

After which, he would screw Steve into the nearest available surface and then run off with these two nerdletts in a windowless white van of employee-snatching. Hell, he'd stick Steve in the van too, and get Banner as his co-pilot, and drive off to somewhere SHIELD couldn't find them until he was properly satiated with huge amounts of sex, science and coffee.

So. Much. Coffee.

And even more sex. Steve sex, which was almost definitely the best kind of sex, even if he'd never had Steve sex before. Yeah, having a damn good body didn't always equal damn good sex––Tony had been with enough silicone-injected models who thought hotness trumped things like technique, enthusiasm, and attention span to know _that_ ––but Steve was kind and generous and creative and a damn fast learner, not to mention the impact his healing factor was likely to have on his recovery time. 

Tony didn't normally have much patience with teaching, but he was certain he'd make an exception when it came to giving Steve a crash course in Sexytimes 101. Hell, he'd probably add a couple of other 100-level courses… and some 200-level courses with lab requirements and rigorous, rigorous homework. After all that, Steve could probably pick his own independent study… carefully supervised, of course. Something hands-on that would make ample use of the _talents_ Steve would have developed by then.

Some part of Tony's brain pointed out that this was weird, he was fetishizing academia and that was just weird, but then he fell into a happy little fantasy of Steve's potential graduate thesis, traced onto Tony's skin and whispered into his collarbone… Perhaps he could write out the lines of a traditional diploma on Steve's back, each letter delicately painted in finest chocolate sauce.

 "Tony?" 

It took a moment to register that that voice was real-Steve, and not imaginary-naked-chocolate-sauce-Steve. Shit, had he popped a boner? No, he couldn't have, he didn't have a boner to pop…

"Tony, what are you doing?" And Steve sounded concerned now. Concerned and confused, and that was a mix Tony heard all too often in the good Captain's voice.

Tony tried to look at Steve, and realized he'd gotten himself turned around somehow because his back was to Steve. His back was to Steve and he was… was he wiggling his ass? Not just wiggling, his tail was up and out of the way and he realized that muscles he'd never had before were tensing and contracting in a way that was… Oh, god, no, _eew!_

Tony snapped his tail back down, forcing unfamiliar muscles to obey through force of will alone. He clenched the cheeks of his ass together, trying to hold the damn treacherous tail in place as he backed up, looking desperately for an exit. 

What he _saw_ was the flushing face of Simmons and the bewildered face of Fitz, and yeah, god, those kids had been examining him the entire _fucking_ time. This was horrible. Where was a good old alien invasion when he needed one? Or a mouth, an actual talking mouth that he could put to use babbling excuses, some kind of forced explanation for why he had popped a horsey lady-boner and then proceeded to _wave it_ in Captain America's _face_.

If embarrassment didn't kill him, Coulson definitely would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another, evil cliffhanger. Although, to be fair, if you know much about horse biology, you probably know where this is going. (And lots of you probably know more about horse biology than yours truly, so please forgive any errors!)
> 
> A cookies go out to: Ally, David3, miniamber15, Reedsinger, mackenzie, Aurelie (NowImJustSomebodyThat) and ILiveOnAnIsland for guessing that Tony is, in fact, an Arabian. Given Tony's small size, fiery nature, and the kinds of feats Iron Mare is gonna have to preform in later chapters, I thought it was apt. Plus, even though Tony is an American, Iron Man was forged in fire in the middle east, and his equine form kinda reflects that.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone!


	5. In Which Tony Learns to Tapdance, and Steve Denies His Lust for Thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, go to my excellent betas, draconicfeline and Captain_Rachel, for making this chapter and the rest of Iron Mare possible!
> 
> Also, two updates in less than a month! Yay!

Steve had no idea what was going on. It was a distressingly familiar feeling, and one he hated.

It wasn't even the frustrating this-is-a-future-thing-everyone-else-understands sort of situation, either. Those usually just led to laughter, light ribbing, the occasional pitying look, and then Tony sweeping Steve off to experience the wonders of whatever new-fangled gizmo or TV show or internet video about cats falling out of boxes that it had all started with. And those moments were becoming fewer and fewer, Steve adapting more quickly to the future than he might have expected if he lived with anyone other than Tony Stark.

But those situations? Then at least everyone else knew what was going on. And in battle against an unknown enemy, Steve could still fall back on the basics of deployment and troop movement, terrain and angles. He could rely on Clint to be his eyes, Natasha to be his shadow, Thor and Bruce to be his heavy hitters and Tony to be the voice in his ear, tossing out analysis and data and jokes and repulser fire.

Now?

Now Tony was whinnying, high-pitched and panicked-sounding. His ears were flicking from Steve to Fitz to Simmons to Steve, eyes wide and whites showing. Steve might not know horses, but Tony was scrambling away like he'd been burned, and that was probably a bad thing.

Steve tried to lunge forward, to get to Tony, to calm him down–

And Tony _bolted_.

With a thunder of hooves, Tony sprinted across the loading bay to a spot as far away from everyone else as possible. Steve started to follow, but a small, delicate hand landed on his arm.

"No! Not like that, you'll terrify him!" Dr. Simmons' voice was quiet but intense, and Steve froze.

Thor started to stride forward, but Steve waved him back. Then he turned to Simmons.

"Tell me. Tell me what's going on." Steve tried to be calm, but Tony was pawing at the ground, both eyes fixed on Steve and Simmons as his ears flicked around like crazy. He wanted to go, to comfort, to _hold_ Tony and keep him safe and warm and protected.

"Horses are prey animals, and they have highly developed fight-or-flight response," Simmons explained. "He's agitated, too, which makes things worse. See the way his chin is tucked in and he's pawing the ground? That mean he's distressed about something... not surprising, Arabians are a very high-strung breed. And the way his eyes are both pointed at us? That means the source of the distress is over here, probably."

Over here? Was this his fault? Had Steve done something to upset Tony? Said something?

Shoving that thought aside, Steve called, "Thor, can you translate?"

Thor shrugged his massive shoulders. "It is difficult... he is quite upset. Something about being slain by the Son of Could? I do not understand."

Steve glanced at Coulson, who was nursing his coffee in the corner and pointedly ignoring the mess. He looked up just once, to raise an eloquent eyebrow at Steve. Steve shot the man a pleading look, and Coulson got to his feet, as though that was his plan all along, and strolled out the door.

Tony, however, did not calm down. He just kept staring at Steve, making little muttery noises and doing a mincing little side-step.

"Dr. Simmons, how do we get him out of this?" Steve asked, low and quiet.

Simmons bit her lip. "Well, who's closest to him? I mean, Agent Marsh told me you two were... but then Agent Flannery said that she just heard you were with Thor. Something about his arse?"

"No. Not, not with Thor." Steve could feel his face growing hot. "I'm with Tony, so I'm pretty sure I'm the one closest to him."

"Right." Simmons said, more than a little flustered.

"So much for your 'giant golden manwich'," Fitz muttered, not quite quiet enough to escape Steve's hearing... or to keep Simmons' ears from turning fluorescent pink. "Are you gonna let go of his arm at some point?"

"Right. So. We're giving him space, that's good." She released Steve's bicep as though it was on fire, and nodded over at Tony... who was still pawing the ground in agitation, but at least he was no longer whinnying. "Now you, Set– Captain. Captain, you need to go over there slowly. No sudden moves, stay in his line of sight. Speak softly and soothingly, and just... let him hear your voice, and smell you. He's human too, so I'm not sure what else... Offering sugar would probably be an insult, right?"

Steve smiled a little at that. "Yes. Thank you."

Then he was off, moving low and slowly. Tony's ears snapped forward, pointing towards Steve as he approached.

"It's OK, Tony." Slowly, so slowly, Steve stepped closer and closer, his hands up and open, his shoulders low and unthreatening. He looked down, below Tony's eyes, because he'd heard animals read that as a threat. "It's just me, just Steve."

"It's gonna be OK." With great care, Steve held out a hand to Tony. Not touching him, not yet, just an offer. Tony, eyes still fixed on Steve like he might turn into an ogre any second, leaned his head forward and sniffed at Steve's hand.

With a sort of sigh, some of the tension left Tony's neck and shoulders.

Steve took that as a good sign and moved his hand just a little, just enough to stroke at Tony's soft nose. It felt almost like thin, delicate velvet; like his grandmother's old throw, which had been washed so often it was almost gone. The skin was black, sprouting short little whiskers around his mouth and nostrils.

Tony breathed in and out, deeply, warm breath brushing over Steve's hand.

Steve stroked again, calloused fingers skimming over soft, warm skin. It was bizarre, because this was not what Steve was used to feeling. It had taken a long time, a long time for both of them, but over the last months Steve has gotten so used to touching Tony... his gorgeous face, his clever hands, his soft, plush lips. This skin felt alien, completely unlike the Tony he was growing used to touching. 

Then Steve looked up, and saw those rich, brown eyes staring back at him. The lashes were too long and the lids were covered in brown fur but those eyes...

They were Tony's eyes. Tony's frightened eyes staring at him out of an unfamiliar face, and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. That disconcerting feeling when he'd touched Tony's face must be nothing compared to what must be going on behind this eyes. Tony was trapped in an unfamiliar body and Steve... yes, his body had changed,  but with his foreknowledge and consent and almost all of the changes had been improvements.

But still, he knew the look in those eyes, at least a little. Steve had seen a look like that one in the mirror, once he realized how much the world had changed without him. The future had been confusing, terrifying, alien... until he found Tony. Tony was his lodestar, his anchor, the one person in this brave new world who wouldn't sugarcoat or lie or treat Steve like he was anything other than a human being.

Now, Tony was the one who was lost, the one who needed. It was up to Steve to provide.

"It's..." Steve started, and the word came out wobbly. Steve took a deep breath, inhaling Tony's scent, a mix of familiar metal and unfamiliar horse, and it strengthened his nerve. "I'm here, OK? We're here. We can figure this out, Tony, just stay with me."

Tony snorted something, probably a joke by the way Thor chuckled, and his body seemed to relax.

Steve smiled and stepped in closer, stroking Tony's small, delicate muzzle with one hand and running the other down the long line of his neck. Even if it wasn't Tony's usual hair, the coat was soft and silky to the touch, warm and real and moving as Tony breathed.

"That's right. We'll figure this out together, OK?" Steve said, looking Tony in the one eye he could see from this angle.

Tony responded by nibbling Steve's fingers in what seemed to be an affectionate way.

Steve spent long moments just stroking Tony, calming him and getting accustomed to the feel of this current body. If Tony was going to be like this for any length of time, Steve was going to have to understand how he moved, his position in space, what places it was safe and calming to put his hands.

Tony had always _claimed_ he didn't need physical affection and contact... and then proved himself a liar with a thousand little reassuring touches and long nights of sleepy couch-cuddling. He proved it now, as well, nuzzling up to Steve and breathing him in.

It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that Steve remembered the two of them weren't alone in the loading bay. Steve looked up and saw that the other Avengers were back to their various tasks or amusements, keeping close enough to be available while still giving the  pair a thin veneer of privacy.

Simmons and Fitz were not quite so used to dealing with Tony in a mood, so they had stayed, standing awkwardly several yards away, Simmons bouncing on the balls of her feet while Fitz reviewed (or hastily pretended to review) data on a tablet. 

Tony was looking at them too, and his eyes narrowed.

"Tony, what's wrong?" Steve asked. 

Tony nibbled his lip, letting out a whuffling noise that completely failed to get anything across to Steve. Another sound, this one a snort, sounded vaguely frustrated to Steve... who could definitely understand the sentiment. _So much for being the one closest to Tony... I can't even understand him..._  

"Should I ask Thor to translate?" Steve asked, trying to be a man about it and not jealous that Thor always had to be in the middle of their conversations.

Tony shook his head (well, his whole neck, really) and nibbled his lip again, large ears darting to and fro in thought.

Then, Tony paused and his eyes lit up. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to look Steve n the eye, and then tapped his hoof on the ground. Three taps, then three scratches. He looked expectantly at Steve.

Steve didn't get it.

Tony let out a sigh, and did it again.

Tap tap tap. Scratch scratch scratch.

... ---...

_SOS_

"Morse code!" Steve grinned at Tony, excitement flowing though his veins. _This_ was a language he could understand, something he'd studied before he even joined the army, then perfected with the Howling Commandos.

Tony nodded, then responded with scratch, tap, scratch, tap. It was the letter C, Morse shorthand for "yes".

"Yes. I got that," Steve said with a grin.

 _U OK_? Tony scratched, and Steve nodded.

"Yeah, just worried about you. You ok? You were pulling a serious diva act there, soldier."

Tony rolled his eyes, but they were crinkled with humor. _IM N A SOLDIER._

"No denying you're a diva, then?" Steve asked, scratching Tony behind his large, pointy ears. It took a moment for Steve to translate the sounds in his head, different as they were to the beeping sounds he'd heard back in the old days.

Tony wiggled a little closer, his nicker sounding almost smug. _N. U LV IT._

"Only when it doesn't get you hurt." Steve said, honesty breaking through the banter for a moment. Then he shook his head. "And why are you using text speak? I hate text speak."

 _U TRY IT,_ Tony tapped out, trying to glare at Steve without dislodging the hand that was scratching his ears.

Fitz cleared his throat again, then gave them both a little wave. "Oi, you two communicating?"

"Yes," Steve called back. He looked down at Tony. "I think they want to tell us something. Are you OK to go over there?"

Tony tapped out a yes, but he stayed close to Steve on his walk back over. Steve, for his part, didn't really mind.


End file.
